Never such cracking and banging,

such warding off of midnight demons

as we declare wars on the clouds;

galaxies born out of nothing

roar and fade.

Sperm-squiggling spears of flame become

broad upward waterfalls of feathered light,

great sizzling sideward Catherine Wheels,

jack-in-a-box galaxies exploding into black,

sea-urchin palaces built in space,

flopping coxcombs, sheet lightnings,

sperm-and-ovum bangs, slewing fireballs.

From strobing flares that freeze the world

tinsel universes tinkle down

synchonise-swimming to extinction

through fresh sky-probings,

through snaking-up Indian rope tricks,

wavering depth-charges reversed,

virgin night-flowers that vanish unmated,

or a dance of midnight sombreros

in mocking theatre of the absurd

amid space chrysanthemums turning

to evanescent asters that fall

like a skyful of feathers

spilled from an eiderdown.